


Screaming

by mikachan



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Nightmares, Smut, just like bondage stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 14:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21180875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikachan/pseuds/mikachan
Summary: (But they were), he just couldn't hear it yet.





	Screaming

**Author's Note:**

> in honor of the chapter 5 trailer
> 
> enjoy this old hoarded work

My mask was wet and hot on the inside, tears dripping down the bridge of my nose and getting stuck on my upper lip. I couldn’t breathe, face smashed into my too-soft pillow to muffle the sobs echoing off the inside of the polymer, the inside of my brain. I heard the walkie-talkie spring to life “shit man, you okay?” Larry’s voice came in static from my hand. “No- no Larry I need you, please come,” I gasped out, hugging the cold metal to my chest tight, tight. ‘And be quiet’, I silently begged in my head. It wasn’t long before I heard him just outside my door, and he burst it open, dispersing the darkness around me. His mussed up hair blew in tendrils in front of his panting lips, and I glared at him as much as I could through my sweaty mask, “idiot. I don’t want Dad to wake up.” My voice was thick with tears and snot, and his face immediately softened as he shut the door, quietly this time, behind him. He came to sit on the edge of my bed. 

The only light in the room came from the softly glowing lava lamp on the desk, and it threw dangerous shadows around the plastered walls, posters distorted and scary in the night. “I’m here, Sal. What was your dream?” I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I didn’t want to talk about my mom watching her baby boy get torn apart. I didn’t want to talk about how at the time I couldn’t even feel the pain of my own bleeding face and body, that the only thing I could feel was her screaming. I definitely didn’t want to talk about how when it was over I was too weak to do anything, too weak to help her, too little to do anything but watch as they put her mangled shreds in an ambulance. A last ditch effort at pity that we all knew was useless. I didn’t want to talk about how Dad’s eyes are dark and scary now, gloomy. I grabbed his hand and brought it to my thigh, still face down and tense, head turned away from him.

“Please?” I whispered. His soft, warm hand came up over my thigh and onto my back and he leaned down to kiss the back of my neck slowly. I flinched, but I let him. I wanted this. I trusted him now, just like the dozens of times I had before. My eyes finally closed beneath my mask. “Will you talk to me after?” I shut my lips tight. He knew what happened to me. I didn’t want to bother him with the repetitive hell I tried so hard to ignore inside my own head. “Please, Sal?” He asked so softly, hair trailing along my shoulders as he went to suckle little marks onto my neck. “Okay,” I whispered. 

The hand on my back slowly moved to cradle me, and he flipped me around gently. Even with my mask on I still reached up to cover my face, afraid for him to see the puffiness of my eyes. “Shhh,” he cooed, dragging my fingers away from my eyes. I let him, only so I could bury them in his hair, tug hard and pull him down to me again. He hummed into my neck, the only place he could kiss with my mask still on. I wanted to kiss his mouth. I wanted to kiss him in general. I had before, but never like this. I never got to return the favor. “Sal...” he whispered, and I crumbled again, eyes blurring even in the dark. His hands ran up my shirt, and I shivered. I writhed like my skin was catching fire, the warmth from his hands drawing me out into reality, but my head was still stuck, my face was still stuck. 

“Take it off,” I sobbed, and he sat me up to lift my shirt from my shoulders. No, no, no... I screamed in my head. I wanted my mask off. I wanted it off but I couldn’t do it myself. I didn’t want to ask, and he knew every time he’d ask for permission I would say no. But he was too good, he was too good to rip it from me like some awful, broken crutch. I didn’t want to need it but it was the only thing that made me feel safe... the only thing that kept me in and the evil out. He kissed down to my collarbone, one hand teasing my side while the other came up to grab at my own shaking, trembling hand. I held it too tight. 

He kissed his way across my stomach, and down to the line of my pajama pants. He licked across it slowly, and I let out a shuddering breath. More sobs followed. He tugged down my waistband to free my half hard member, chuckled, and gave it a little squeeze. I yelped. “How do you want it, baby blue?” I whined, “I don’t... Larry I don’t know. Please, just... inside? Please?” As much as I loved how Larry felt around my cock I couldn’t be in control anymore. I needed him to fuck the pain right out of my skull, I needed him to fill me up with something other than the image of my Mom’s eyes bulging out of her skull, my own eye weeping blood. I wanted him to be mean, and he knew it. He was so selfless in his giving, so willing to tear me apart nightly just to build me up again. Sleepless night after sleepless night trembling in his arms, in his bed or in my own, he was the only real thing left in the world. The only thing that was there in the day that still came when it was dark outside. 

“Fuck me, fuck me,” I panted out, reaching out to him. “Mmm, okay baby blue,” he chuckled, pulling my pajamas the rest of the way off of me. He leaned down to suckle at the tip of my cock and I started, one hand going to tug on my own hair, the other going to his. His eyes fluttered back when I tugged on his scalp, and his hands wound tighter around my thighs. He took more of me into his mouth and I whimpered softly, “oh, Larry.” I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax and my cock start to harden more. He lifted off to lick at the tip of me, and his tongue piercing bumped against my nerves recklessly. “So easy, baby,” he teased. I ignored the comment, choosing to focus back on the way his lips wrapped around me. He grabbed my hips hard and fast, swallowing me suddenly and I felt stars explode behind my eyes. I cried out as quietly as I could in my cramped room, and I could tell he was beyond pleased with himself. 

He grabbed onto my hips and pulled me further into his mouth, and I watched his eyelids flutter. I wanted to kick him away. I wanted to pull his hair right out of his scalp, push his eyes in with my thumbs. I whined out some frustrated rendering of his name, punching the mattress with the hand that wasn't currently stuffed in his sleep-knotted hair. He moaned against me, flattening his tongue against me and bobbing his head. He pulled off my now fully erect member, again pushing his tongue against the tip. I groaned, flinging a forearm over my eyes. The pressure dug my mask into my flesh but I decided I didn’t mind.

I felt him reach beside me for the nightstand, and I held my breath, afraid what would come out of me if I didn’t. He tossed the lube on the bed beside me and tore my arm away from my eyes. “Oh,” I watched him gently take both of my bruised wrists in his hands before cuffing them each to the bedpost in turn. My breath hitched and I could feel my heart begging to jump through my ribcage and run through the room screaming. “Larry…” I sighed, suddenly acutely aware of how naked I was. I watched as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, and I drunk in the way his muscles moved in the soft light as he pulled his sweatpants down his thighs and off, discarding them to the floor below which I could not see.

He kissed the lips of my mask, and all I could feel was a vaguely warm pressure there. I was beyond frustrated. I wanted him to devour me, I wanted him to eat me alive, rip into my ribcage and taste the way my blood felt against the pain. I wanted him to leave more scars on my face. I wanted him to howl. He shifted his hips closer to mine and we both sighed, cocks pressing together gently. He reached for the bottle that had been discarded beside my torso and I spread my legs willingly. I arched off the bed, pulling on my restraints. I felt feral.

He tugged on my cock, reaching lower with two glistening fingers to circle at my entrance. “Just do it, please?” I begged, canting my hips into him. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby blue,” he whispered back, nibbling at my ear. “But I do.” My voice sounded small and weak and quiet coming from behind my mask, and I was afraid he hadn’t heard me at all, as if I was a fairy, or a wisp. He pushed them both into me at once, slowly working his way into my trembling body, a body that didn’t feel real, or alive. I felt as though I were already dead, just a rotting corpse with some pieces of a soul to animate it. Or maybe I was a ghost, maybe I was made of light. 

He crooked his fingers, still tugging and squeezing on my member, and I jolted, “ahh! There!” He always found it so easily, having memorized my body better than I had myself. I didn’t want to look further at it than to know when it was hungry, or when my hair needed to be washed. I didn’t want to know it intimately the way Larry did. I closed my eyes, rolling my hips into the way Larry felt against me and inside of me. I gasped softly when he added a third finger, stretching me patiently just as he always insisted. He never made me hurt, not unless it was with his own cock. I begged and I begged and he refused, it was sadistic. He wouldn’t give me what I wanted. He knew it made me squirm and he’d much rather watch that than have me satisfied completely. 

He pulled out of me and I forced my eyes to open. He gave my cock one last squeeze before grabbing onto my fleshy hips and positioning himself to enter me. I wiggled my hips a little and he chuckled, his grip tightening possessively. Underneath this sad, tired kid there lurked something scary. If you looked closely into his eyes you could see it burning; the need to harm. HIs mind was too kind to let him, but the fire was there, burning away slowly, a frightening yellow chipping at his warm brown. I wanted him to give in to and it cut me to pieces, I wanted him to kill me. I would never ask that of him, he would never know. He would stay gentle.

He pushed in slowly and again I sobbed, an ugly sort of strangled cry from behind the confines of my mask. I wanted him to feel good, I wanted him to use me. I wanted him to give me a purpose other than to feel pain and to remember. I wanted and I wanted and I wanted until I was black and blue and bleeding, and still I never asked. “Ahh… Sal…” He sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. His hair fell in rivulets around his face and naked shoulders. It cascaded down his back and I could see it bounce against his waist with each thrust. Mine clung static and messy to the pillow.

He pulled me to him every time he pushed into me, grip tight and heavy on my hips. One hand traveled up to my navel and pressed against me there, head still hanging back and lulling. Larry Johnson loved to fuck me, of this I was certain. He found solace in my warmth and considered it a personal feat whenever he made me cum. I loved it too, I loved it when I could see the contentment on his face, when his hair draped around us and hung onto my chest. My mask made me anxious. My body made me anxious. I didn’t feel like it was mine, I didn’t feel like the pleasure I felt connected to me. I thought maybe, sometimes he was fucking someone else and I was just there watching, playing along. 

His cock bumped against my spot and I trembled, keening, “yes! There!” He angled his body to hit it again and again, and I pulled and pulled against the metal holding me in place. I tugged. I tugged so hard I thought I might bleed. He draped himself over me, looking into the dark holes of my mask where my eyes should be. He circled his hips into me, “baby…” he cooed, “baby boy.” He reached behind my head to hold it there, and I tensed. I wanted him to do it. I begged him silently not to ask again. He slowly reached for the buckles on my mask, and the pops they made as they unclasped were deafening. I flinched, and I knew my hands were shaking as he pulled it slowly from the mess of my hair, tangles catching onto the buckles. 

“My baby blue,” he smiled, setting it on the pillow beside me. He didn’t look away, he wouldn’t look away. He just stared at me with horrifying, sickening sweetness, continuing to roll his hips as I continued to whine. Tears escaped me, wet and hot and plentiful. I tried to reach up to grab at his face but my wrists were raw and chaffed. He pushed my hair from my face and kissed me. Every inch of my body relaxed and I felt so, so good. I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer and I rolled my hips up frantically to meet his. I never wanted him to pull away, I wanted him to drown me, suffocate me, rip out my lungs. In his kindness he pulled away to breathe, latching onto my neck and biting, suckling as he pushed into me harder and faster. He panted into my skin and I flushed hot, hot, hot. 

I arched and writhed into him and he pulled away quickly to mercilessly flip me over. My arms were crossed in front of me and he spread my legs out wide to push back into my tight heat. He grabbed onto my hair and used it as leverage to fuck into me, loosening his grip only once to leave a big, red mark on my ass. He pulled away again to fuck at my thighs, pressed together and wet with lube. My eyes were closed and my jaw was hanging open like a cheap whore, tears streamed in rivers down my cheeks and I loved every single second of it.

When he flipped me back around he came so close I could see the yellow burning in his eyes. His hands were soft and warm and yet they grabbed at me so harshly. I was panting, I could hardly breathe, I didn’t want to breathe. His hair was a mess, roots dark with sweat as the rest of it hung around us like a cruel curtain. “You’re beautiful, Sally Face,” he whispered, again leaning down to ravage my neck. “I’m ugly,” my voice came out broken and so, so tiny. “You’re beautiful, too. So pretty.” I whined.

He reached down to play with my cock and I couldn’t take it any longer, unbearable heat rose into my stomach. “Larry! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-“ he reached up and wrapped a big, strong hand around my throat, and squeezed, “go on, baby blue.” I came hard, harder than I had in a long time, new tears sprouting as I writhed beneath him, hands shaking in little fists in my restraints. My voice raised in pitch and I cried out, muffling my sobs in his shoulder. My thighs were trembling by the time I was done, and I rolled my hips lazily. I wanted him to cum, too.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and I wrapped my weak legs around his waist, still moaning breathily. He sat up, grabbed my hips harshly and pistoned in and out, his breath ragged and shallow. When he came, it was deep inside, hair falling like a curtain over his eyes and face. I could hear him growling, deep and low. I sighed, feeling him release into me. When he was empty I relaxed again, every muscle giving out at once. He fell on top of me and I whined, so he rolled off to the side, slipping out of me crudely. We lay there for awhile, breath heavy and limbs entangled, until my wrists started to ache. 

“My hands,” I whispered, and he bolted up “oh shit, sorry Sal.” He reached for the key and unlocked my hands and they fell like deadweight to my sides. I sighed, closed my eyes. “You didn't safe word,” he said. “Were you expecting me to?” I replied. He shrugged, and laid back down. “I did a lot of things tonight that could have crossed some boundaries, I wouldn’t have blamed you.” I curled up into his side, and I could feel my lashes were wet. “I don’t deserve you.”

He lay there silently, and the miasma between us grew thick with mourning. “I’m sorry,” I said. I knew he hated it when I said things like that; things that crawled around in my head and on the innards of my ears. They slipped out at night. I couldn’t help that. “You promised,” he murmured, pulling me close, so close I wanted to melt into his skin like fresh pastry dough on a buttered pan. I sighed.

“It was the eyes again. Red and screaming. It won’t stop screaming, Larry. She won’t stop screaming. And her eyes…” I trailed off, emotions leaving me like color seeping from a black and white screen. The air was static. I couldn’t feel my legs. “Look at mine,” he said, situating himself atop me. His eyes were honeyed, soft… and they couldn’t be real. “Mine aren’t screaming.” But they were, he just couldn’t hear it yet.


End file.
